Hazel was in the streets, looking around she smiled. This was going to be a good day for her, with her quiver and bow strung around her back and her Glock out she hummed, climbing up a rickety ladder, onto a nice looking rooftop, fit with solar panels too. If only it had a nice tanning bed. As she sat down she relaxed, looking at the area below her and nodding her approval. 

Taking the magazine out of her Glock she carefully took the remaining bullet from the chamber, setting the gun aside. Counting the bullets she realized she had only seven in this magazine, that wasn't good. Looking over her other two magazines she felt relieved when one was full. That was great.

Now taking her quiver she quickly counted the arrows, five rickety homemade, ten serrated, ten normal arrows, and then five dull arrows, these ones were to take out your enemy without killing. A rounded and heavy tip, it was very effective, like a stone to the head twice. Happy with her arrows she laid back, wondering what building she was on though, she took her Glock, climbed down the ladder and smiled brightly, eyes twinkling. It was a...a motel! 

Practically running up the ladder she took the rest of her gear, only now realizing her Glock was empty. With a shrug she put the magazine in and climbed back down. 

It appeared the hotel was just abandoned. No one chose to keep it, or board it up. It was probably because the streets were crowded with walkers at the time. Practically drooling her hand reached out towards the door handle. "I am in heaven right now." She said in a daze, opening the door and starting to search through the insides. 

It smelled kind of like death and cupcakes. What a strange mixture. Walking forwards she was faced with the sounds, and smells of zombies. Almost dropping her gun she made her way backwards. "I know your here!" A scraggly voice called from some room, out came an old lady, and an old man. They were walking what appeared to be two children, more following. The only problem was that the children were dead. 

"Are you afraid? Don't be. They were just poor children. They died very quickly, but we know that if we keep them the cure will come and soon they will be happy again." That was the voice of the woman, that scraggly dead voice. In a panic Hazel took her bow, looking at the couple with a sad sigh as she notched an arrow. They tried to manipulate her, telling her they had food, weapons, that their family could be hers. That was when things got brutal. Shooting the old man in the throat, then whacking the woman. 

They both fell, letting the zombie children go, and with a hungry growl, they ran towards her. Taking no time she pulled out her gun, shooting two while two more tried grabbing her. They succeeded and as she tried elbowing them they tried biting her. Continuing her assault on the two she was elbowing she managed to shoot one, then tackle the other. With a sigh and a heavy heart, she pounded into it's rotten, broken down skull. Taking it out.

Blood and guts everywhere, she had to finish off the coma before she slept, the man was already dead, and their new 'family' was now torn to pieces. She started to clean up, making sure everything was gone off of the carpet and whatever else was messy. When finished the place would be clean, sort of immaculate. It still looked run down and the smell would have to fade away. But when she got new curtains, Tupperware, furniture, and other house accessories that were most likely left in stores. It would be nice.

So, with her maternal instincts kicking in, she started. Reloading her empty Glock, notching an arrow, locking the door with the keys she found on the couple. She left and headed to a super market. This would now be her's. She would call it [i]'The pub.'[/i] and it would be a sanctuary run by her. That was what she could hope for, but for now she had to work as hard as possible, making escape exits, boarding the place up, making it comfortable, fixing up the solar panels. All things she had no idea how to do, but as her mother once said, 'Hey, anything is fixable with the right tools and a brain.'